The Oddfellows Arms was flooded with noise and light as the police moved in to secure the scene. Cops in armoured vests moved quickly and efficiently, pointing firearms in every direction. Out in the car park, sirens whooped, casting the pub in flashes of red and blue.
Detectives Stevens and Pattimore were liberated from their plastic bondage. Brough left them to straighten their aching limbs and patted Harry Henry on the back.
“Good to see you, Harry! But would you mind telling me what the fuck is going on?”
Harry signalled it might be better if they went outside where they might at least be able to hear themselves think.
A team had cut the chain and discarded the shiny new padlock. Brough followed Harry Henry up the steep stairs to the car park, to be hit in the face by the cold December air and the harsh brightness of a rig of spotlights. Already quite a camp had been set up and the queen at the centre of this hive of activity appeared to be a pink-haired lesbian with a spider web tattooed across half of her face.
“Ah, Brough,” said the lesbian in Chief Inspector Wheeler’s voice. “None the worse for wear, I hope.”
“Um, no. Thanks... Chief?”
“What? Oh!” Wheeler peeled off her wig to reveal her customary salt-and-pepper crew cut. She nodded to the cellar doors and Brough turned in time to see Pattimore and Stevens being helped up the steps. Stevens was struggling to keep his pelmet of a skirt covering his modesty. They were led away to an ambulance.
Next to emerge were some stretcher-bearers. They brought up Keith Daley, wrapped in a blanket. They brought up, although his face was covered, the unfortunate Environmental Health inspector, Ronnie Flavell. Last came Dickon, handcuffed and with guns trained on him. A uniformed officer carried the giant tribal mask in a polythene bag.
“Where’s Jerry?”
It was Miller. Brough had to catch hold of her sleeve to prevent her from going down to the cellar. She searched Brough’s face for answers he was unable to provide.
“I thought I’d left you in the bath, madam.”
“Jerry!”
Miller hugged him. Over her shoulder, the gravedigger winked at the detective.
“Are you all right, old man?” said Brough. “No irresistible compulsion to stab anyone?”
“Not so much,” said Jerry. “Mom always told me not to play with knives.” He displayed the bright white dressing that had only moments ago patched up his self-inflicted wound.
Miller looked quite put out. “Trust you lot to have all the fun without me,” she complained. “Typical bloody men.”
Wheeler interrupted. “Right, people; half of Serious has already gone off to Dedley General, so I think the rest of you may as well join them. I want you all checked out and shipshape for a briefing first thing, i.e. in about three hours’ time, so chop chop!”
She shooed them towards waiting ambulances.
“It was like a dream,” said Jerry.
“What was?” Miller linked her arm in his and supported him.
“Like I was hypnotised. Or like I was watching myself from a long way away. I wouldn’t have hurt you, Dave. You know that, don’t you?”
“What’s this?” said Miller.
“I took a gamble,” said Brough. “You weren’t going to hurt me because - fuck alone knows why - you care about Miller.”
“What’s this? Who’s hurting who?”
“Quiet, Miller.”
“He’s right,” said Jerry. “I love you, Melanie Miller, and no matter what state I was in or whoever was pulling the strings, I would never hurt somebody that you care about.”
Miller was stunned. Not only had Jerry just declared his love for her, he’d embarrassed her in front of Brough.
“Get in that bloody ambulance before you really need it,” she growled. Jerry kissed her forehead and got in.
“I’ll get the next one,” said Brough. “I - there’s something I need to tell the Chief first.”
He waved their ambulance off and approached Chief Inspector Wheeler who was grimacing and wincing as she peeled strings of fake tattoo off her face.
She wasn’t going to like what Brough was about to tell her but perhaps she would understand.